The Lighting of the Beacons
by balrogthane
Summary: A short story on the lighting of one of the beacons. Movie-verse, cause it happens during the day. COMPLETED


Disclaimer  
  
Apparently, these things are important. So I'll just stick this at the front of every story I put out here: this story is not for money ! I am not going to get anything for it ! That should be obvious, seeing as it's here on FF.net, but if it isn't then this makes it clear.  
  
All right, as to ownership-- I own all the characters here now. I do NOT own any of the other characters, nor do I own Lord of the Rings, nor do I own any rights to it! There.  
  
Now you can read the story. :-)  
  
-(----  
  
He stood at the very summit as the sun rose. He went out every morning, long before the light had crept over the edge of the world, when the clouds hid the valleys and forests below and even the animals remained abed. Sometimes he could see the sun, clear and sharp through the high air; sometimes he couldn't see her, but when she peered at all the mists and fog around him, they lit up, as though shining of their own light.  
  
Every day the sun rose, as if it had never risen before, and he didn't want to miss a single one of the magnificent dawns. Other soldiers were indifferent at best to beacon duty; they only saw the cold, the hunger and the loneliness.  
  
He smiled as today he saw her, looking right over the seas at him, and imagined she shone for him alone. Unbidden, a lay of ancient Númenor formed itself in his mind, and he quietly heralded the new day with a song that came originally from the Elves of the West. By the time he finished, the sun had pulled herself free of the horizon and he turned back to the outpost, heart glad within him.  
  
He had to admit the other soldiers had something, when they complained about this post. But access to such a scene as that dawn, a rare occurrence in Minas Tirith but here freely bestowed every day, more than compensated for the downsides. Now he put his head through the door to find his far more prosy companions still wrapped in their blankets. He shook his head, grinning slightly, and nudged the nearer one awake.  
  
"Mmrff... sngg... wha...?" Firorn's confused face, complete with bleary eyes, peered over the edge of the coverings and blinked in the sunlight. His pupils shrunk back painfully and he focused on the man at the foot of his bed.  
  
"Elenion? OK, I'm up..." He wriggled and twisted, then clunked his way onto the stone floor. Elenion chuckled, watching him, then turned to the other.  
  
Macildil was already stretching and preparing to rise, however-- he'd been awake for a few minutes. He yawned widely and grinned over at Firorn, who was contemplating-- with considerable bewilderment-- his right boot, which he'd just forced onto his left foot. After a minute waking up, his brain sorted things out and he slowly put the boot onto the right foot. Elenion chuckled again and turned back to Macildil.  
  
"Breakfast?" Macildil nodded and headed to the corner to unearth last night's coals. Elenion walked around to the back to collect wood.  
  
Firorn yawned again, in disappointment this time. "How... excuse me! how much longer?" Macildil continued to poke through the ashes and answered without turning his head.  
  
"Another, hmm, month and a half." Firorn grunted and stood.  
  
"I suppose I need to see about the food." Macildil made an indistinct noise of agreement and kept searching. Firorn yawned for possibly the last time and wandered out the door to meet Elenion toting a load of wood back in.  
  
"'Scuse me," he mumbled, then trudged to the back of the small hut to find their food cache. This high on the mountain, all they needed to keep their food fresh was a stone enclosure to protect it from roving beasts; the didn't have to dig down for a deep, cool cellar. Firorn rolled the circular stone over a few recalcitrant paces and bent down to sort through their larder. A haunch of a wandering deer, a brace of coneys, the last remaining steak from that bear. He collected everything but the venison, rolled the stone to, and headed back to the hut.  
  
He found Macildil trying to convince the coals that they really did need to catch the wood on fire. He smiled slightly and set the meat down.  
  
"Having trouble?" Macildil quit sweet-talking the coals and shot him a dirty look.  
  
"Are we blind today? Obviously I'm having trouble. Elenion got wet wood again." Firorn doubted severely that the wood was wet, Macildil's skill at starting fires was legendary. Legendarily bad, that is. Rather than wait a few hours for breakfast, Firorn borrowed half the coals and soon had the fire sputtering and popping happily.  
  
"Where's Elenion?" he asked conversationally, once the blaze was self-sufficient. Macildil shrugged.  
  
"Gone off to check Mindolluin, I suppose." Firorn snorted.  
  
"As if. I know it's important," holding up his hand to forestall Macildil's indignant retort, "but when they haven't been lit since before we were born, it just adds to the overall dreariness of this post. You can't argue with that." Macildil quirked one corner of his mouth in disagreement, but shrugged.  
  
"As you say, I cannot argue with you. But there is no reason to snort at Elenion doing his duty."  
  
Now it was Firorn's turn to shrug. "Wasn't snorting at that. It was more of a snort at the idea that the beacons might be lit today." The fire was hot enough now, and talk ceased as Firorn set the bear steak over the flames.  
  
Just then Macildil cocked his head. "Elenion's found something." Firorn froze and listened: pounding footsteps, quickly drawing closer. Elenion had indeed found something.  
  
The sound halted abruptly at the hut, then the door burst open. Elenion was standing there, a wild grin all over his face. "It's happened!" Macildil scrambled to his feet, Firorn following a disconcerted moment later.  
  
"What's happened?"  
  
Elenion didn't answer, just grabbed the non-lit end of one of the smaller logs and dashed back out. Macildil raced after him. "What's happened?" Firorn repeated beseechingly.  
  
"Beacons!" replied Elenion. Firorn blinked in shock.  
  
"Beacons? The Beacons?" But the other two were already too far away to hear. He shook his head, blinked again, then set off after them.  
  
Elenion bolted over the uneven stones of the mountain, heading directly for the tall stack of wood that was their beacon. Macildil had fallen slightly behind, but by now he had the same maniacal happiness, laughing and exclaiming as they ran. They stopped at the side of the beacon and stared out to Mindolluin in the distance.  
  
"See? There! It has grown since I saw it first." Macildil peered after Elenion's pointing finger, but before he could locate the tiny flare Elenion spun and leapt to the fuel. Macildil followed him like an obedient dog.  
  
"Wait!" as Elenion almost thrust the torch into the beacon in his exuberance. "The oil!"  
  
"Right, right..." He reached over and grabbed the clay oil pot. Not waiting to pour it onto the wood, he simply smashed it onto the center of the pile and threw the log after it. The two stepped back from the ensuing conflagration and discovered they were panting heavily, but still grinning.  
  
Firorn thudded up the path after them, but slowed when he saw the beacon already lit. "I hope you were right," he muttered, walking more sedately over next to the two. Elenion just pointed to the previous beacon. Firorn stared, then a small smile crept into his face. "Indeed. They are lit, and in our lifetimes!" The trio turned and looked to the next mountain, waiting for its beacon to light up; Firorn saw it first.  
  
"There! Just there! No, a little above that-- it's right on the crest of the mountain. Crouch down and get it against the backdrop of that cloud. See?" They grinned all over again and congratulated each other on their success. Firorn was first to recover, however.  
  
"What does this mean, though? The beacons are not lit on a whim or to check our preparedness. What has happened in Gondor?"  
  
"Oh... yes." Elenion's joy evaporated. "I had not even thought of that. Where are our orders?" Macildil, now thoroughly subdued, began the trek back to the hut.  
  
--  
  
"'Should the beacons be lit, you must remain at your post until the next beacon is lit,'" he read. The three were now standing in the outer room of their outpost, and Macildil held the instructions for their task. "'When the next beacon has responded, you shall not delay in preparing the outpost for your replacements. You shall immediately collect all personal belongings necessary for your return and set out for the nearest command post.' What is the nearest command post?"  
  
Firorn shrugged. "Minas Tirith, I suppose. They don't have a lot of them manned anymore." They stood in silence, then Elenion straightened.  
  
"Well, we have our orders, and they're not unclear. Let's go. I'm ready like I am, are you?" Firorn and Macildil murmured agreement, and they set out for the White City. 


End file.
